~Camila~
"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕"
To the world, Camila is a breath of fresh air; a woman of gentle smiles and a joyful heart. Her charm is her armor, and her intellect is her weapon.
B...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The mouthwatering aroma of food drifted toward me, coaxing me into the kitchen.
As I entered, I watched the staff work with precision, each of them focused on their task, moving in perfect harmony.
"Hi!" I greeted them, my voice breaking the quiet. They all spun around, their eyes wide with surprise. I couldn't help but shudder under their intense gaze.
"Miss, what are you doing here?" A man, who I assumed was the head chef, turned to face me directly.
"I came to help out," I offered with a smile, but they quickly shook their heads in unison.
"No, ma'am, Sir Luciano might get angry if he finds out we let you in." The chef explained nervously.
I furrowed my brows in confusion.
Why would he do that? Does he think I'll poison him? I wondered.
"I'm sure he won't do anything. Please, just let me. I hate the idea of just lazing around." I pleaded, a slight pout forming on my lips.
The chef glanced at the others, who shook their heads disapprovingly.
"I promise he won't do anything." I insisted.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, before relenting. "Alright, you can help, but please be careful not to hurt yourself."
I beamed and thanked him profusely, feeling a small victory.
Then, I subtly persuaded him to send the others away so I could work alongside him.
"So, what's your name, sir?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.
"Damon, ma'am," he replied with a serious look.
I giggled, and he stared at me, confused by my reaction.
"You don't have to call me ma'am. Camila is fine," I insisted, my tone light.
"No, I can't. Don, I mean, sir..." He trailed off as I dropped the knife I had been holding.
"Look, your Don isn't my boss, so he doesn't get to decide who calls me what. I want you to call me Camila, and that's final," I demanded, my voice tinged with annoyance.
He nodded reluctantly but agreed. We continued preparing breakfast together, and I headed to set the table once we were done.
"Hmm, what smells so lovely?" Russo's voice drew my attention. I rushed to hug him, thrilled to see him. It had been too long.
"Hey, gorgeous," he greeted, wrapping his arms around me.
"I'm so glad to see you, Russo, and I'm sorry for being such a drama queen," I apologized with a faint smile.
He smiled and shook his head. "It's fine, Camila. I bet anyone in your shoes would have reacted the same way. And the beast deserved it."
I smiled gratefully at his understanding, feeling a little lighter.
